


A Penny for the Old Guy

by ALittleGranny



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/F, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Hemospectrum, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:10:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALittleGranny/pseuds/ALittleGranny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...It was written that I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice" --Troll Joseph Conrad</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Penny for the Old Guy

A Penny for the Old Guy

_Inspired by Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness,_

_And T.S. Eliot’s poem The Hollow Men._

Prologue

Chapter One

I  
  
We are the hollow men  
We are the stuffed men  
Leaning together  
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!  
Our dried voices, when  
We whisper together  
Are quiet and meaningless  
As wind in dry grass  
Or rats' feet over broken glass  
In our dry cellar  
  
Shape without form, shade without colour,  
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;  
  
Those who have crossed  
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom  
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost  
Violent souls, but only  
As the hollow men  
The stuffed men.

-Troll T.S. Eliot  
  


_One sweep ago…_

Gray flecks of ashen remains drifted between the trees like a flurry of snow. The air was burnt and thick. Each inhale of air brought with it flat particles of ash. Smoke assaulted a lone troll’s respiratory tract. However, she had long since grown used to it, and refrained from coughing.

The earth was ghastly quiet. Still. Dead. Wildlife had long since fled the area in search of refuge from the flames and the smoke. That was the reason she had stayed. The creatures that inhabited these woods were dangerous, too dangerous for one troll of nine sweeps to fight on her own. Trailing behind and between the blazes was safer than facing jungle-beasts. Fire would not chase her nor could it hunt her. The wildlife could not survive in a world of ash and smoke, but a troll could last a few days. Especially when the troll had expected such conditions, and had packed some essentials in her sylladex. Some food, a couple of bottles of water, blankets, a pot, and a tarp. That was all she could grab before the drones came.

Drones had sprayed gasoline on the treetop hive shortly after she had abandoned it. She took the notice from her sylladex to read over. Soot gathered on the parchment, obscuring the black type on yellow paper. With the heel of her palm she dusted it clean from debris. She licked the paper to read the words more clearly. Tasted like sweat and a dictionary, which was an odd and slightly disturbing combination. Sharp teeth helped to scrape off the excess ash and the foul taste. 

_To Alternian Resident,_

_Moved by the understanding that the purity of blood is essential to further the existence and expansion of the Alternian Empire, and inspired by the uncompromising determination to safeguard the future of Alternia, by executive orders of the Imperial Condesce, all trolls are subjected to culling if they do not meet the expectations of their caste or enable others not to._

_Sharing quadrants with an undesirable will result in hard labor._

_Those suspected of associating with or harboring mutants, handicapped, or otherwise undesirable trolls are to have their hives burned without notice. They will then be punished with imprisonment or hard labor._

_Lowbloods are to serve their superiors without question. Failure to comply will result in hard labor, imprisonment, or culling._

_Highbloods who do not meet their societal expectations will face hard labor, forced training, and will be culled if they are not cured._

_Any troll deemed to be a drain on society (physically or mentally handicapped) is to be culled and removed from the gene pool._

_Failure to comply with these orders will result in immediate detention in a hard labor institution, imprisonment, or execution._

_These orders will be put into effect immediately._

_Her Imperial Condesce_

_The Grand HighBlood_

The letter was vague, both with specifications and with dates. Probably a terror tactic; keep every troll on their toes. Make them more likely to comply for fear of their own life. Lack of critical knowledge was a great weakness, and the Condense knew that. The only option for those who were considered undesirable was to run, not to resist enslavement, or work to become a desirable. If they complied with orders, whatever they were, then they would be allowed to keep their lives. That would be the preferred situation for most of them, considering those in the lower castes of the hemospectrum were more docile than the higher ups. However, complying with orders would most likely result in forced labor and slavery (few lowbloods escaped that fate anyway). It would not be much of a life, but a life it was. And some would view a life of servitude as better than none at all. 

She folded the letter tightly and stuffed it into her back pocket. The night was young. The sky still had a cotton candy tint at the horizon, beyond the gray. She had to move on as far as the fires would permit. It was dangerous to stay in the same location for too long. It increased the chances of something catching one’s scent. Not that anything could smell one troll amidst all of the smoke and ashes. Putrid air. After four days she had become used to it. However, she knew that she could not survive in the ashen woods for much longer. It would start to affect her health. With the drones on a culling spree, a sick troll was a dead troll. 

With her bag slung over her shoulder, she stepped away bush she had used as a shelter. Some of the leaves were burnt but the bush had somehow stayed mostly intact. So had some of the surrounding vegetation. An island of green and pink in an ocean of gray was a blessing. She had thought the tree with dangling leaves had protected itself and the plants in its shade. It was the type that stored a lot of water for droughts, making it too damp to catch fire. Maybe the plants around it were the same. Or somehow benefitted from the tree. She wasn’t completely sure. Just speculating. 

To shield her eyes, Terezi pushed up her red glasses. Despite her blindness, the ash would still cause some irritation if it were to get into those red remnants of her eyes. Goggles would have been more useful, but glasses were what she had. They worked mostly, but she still had to rub out those little bits of burnt debris every so often when it managed to get past the lenses. It was a little inconvenient, but not too bothersome. 

It could have been a lot worse. At least she had managed to escape the drones without injury. There were a few others that had not been so lucky. She had stumbled into a yellowblood and a greenblood. Both bodies had been beheaded and their remains crackled in the embers. Not the most pleasant smell, even if the colors were nice. 

Pulling a compass from her pocket, she licked the glass surface and turned around. West led to the ocean, and that was exactly where she planned to go. She had failed to procure a map. If she could get to the ocean then she could get a bearing on her overall location. Not only that, going towards the ocean increased her chances of running into more highbloods who might be more informed and it decreased her chances of running into drones. Highbloods could be negotiated with but drones could not. 

After going to the ocean and maybe talking to some trolls, she did not really know what she would do with herself. Or even where she was going to go. Her only option really was to rebuild and hope to not to get attacked again. Rebuilding would potentially be a wasted endeavor. Why should she waste time rebuilding a hive if it was only going to get torn down again? Part of her hoped that she would come across someone she knew. Ideally she could find someone who was not being persecuted, for safety’s sake. 

Not Vriska. Anyone but Vriska. She was more trouble than she was worth. Even if she was a highly competent blue blood, she was still a manipulative schemer who could not be trusted. Not by Terezi. Not after so many years.

Maybe she could seduce Eridan. 

The world was gray but the trees were just dark enough to have a color difference. She tended not to do well in monochromatic settings. Difficult to smell the difference between colors. Navigation was still made possible by relying on differing shades and the calculated taps on the ground before her feet. It was pretty boring. She almost wanted to get away from the fire just so she could “see” well. However, the wildlife was avoiding the fire, and she was avoiding the wildlife. Trailing behind the fire’s path was the safest bet. 

Licking the compass every so often, she continued towards the ocean knowing full well that she would have to abandon the safety of the ash by sunrise.

_"Black shapes crouched, lay, sat between the trees, leaning against the trunks, clinging to the earth, half coming out, half effaced within the dim light, in all the attitudes of pain, abandonment, and despair."_

_-Troll Joseph Conrad_

Fresh meat roasted over a small fire. It was still another few hours before sunrise, but she wanted to be sure her camp was made. Being exposed to the Alternian sun was not preferred. It was better to lose some time and be safe rather than be in a rush later. 

Tall green and pink trees loomed overhead with full branches that allowed only the slimmest slivers of moonlight through. The air was still thick with the smell of smoke. Ash came in flurries with the wind, but the forest was still lush. Wildlife could be heard occasionally. Mostly singbirds and some frogs, nothing too dangerous. She had managed to catch a small hopbeast, one that seemed to be between infancy and adulthood. It smelled nice, burning over a fire. Though she was kind of tired of things burning, it was different when it happened to be food. She turned the meat on her cane and the raw side hissed when the fire lapped at remnants of blood. Though there was food in her sylladex, it was best to save it for when hunting was not an option. The hopbeast was easy prey and it would have been a travesty to ignore it.

There was a tingling sensation in her left foot from sitting in the same position for too long. She shifted her legs, being careful not to move the cane-skewer from the flame. She tried to think of her friends. Some of her good friends were to be targeted by the Condesce’s orders. Namely Karkat and Tavros. Both of them were at risk. Were they safe? Had either of them managed to escape their hives? Were they out in the wild as well? It was almost unbearable to think about what could have happened if they did not escape the drones. They probably would have ended up like the two trolls Terezi saw earlier: on the ground with their heads clean off. They were tough, most of them. They were smart, all of them. Though that may have not been enough to save someone like Tavros. 

Maybe they had found each other. Or maybe they could be hiding in the same woods as her, only a few miles away, cooking their own meals and building their own shelters. Part of her wanted to scout out the area for that possibility, but it was not worth the risk. On the off chance that she got lost, it would be difficult to find her shelter by sunrise. And a lone troll out and about in daylight was likely a dead troll. 

She examined the meat and decided it wasn’t cooked enough yet. Like most trolls, when meat had to be cooked, she liked it to still be a little bloody. But considering the bacteria risk, she could not have it so bloody that it could put its fur back on and hop away. She held it over the fire, missing her stove. That would have been nice again. The drones had destroyed pretty much all of her belongings when they had burned the hive down. The only reason she had been able to pack anything at all was because she had somewhat anticipated it. Despite her relatively high ranking in the social hierarchy, she was still legally blind. Therefore, she was still a liability. After all, there had been plenty of purges of ‘undesirable’ trolls in Alternian history. More often than not, such purges victimized lowbloods simply because there were more of them. There had been several others, mostly to keep trolls in line and obedient to authority. The current purge would most likely die down within a few years. After all, the Imperial Condesce was not stupid. She was above wiping out half of her home planet’s population. She was not, however, above scaring the ever living shit out of them to remind them who was in charge. 

What it all boiled down to was the Condesce did not really care for the hemocaste system as much as she did about the availability of competent soldiers. She had been lax for the past hundred sweeps, and her actions were almost to be expected. There were some trolls out there who did not meet the expectations of the species, but were not culled. Trolls who were completely useless and incompetent, either physically or mentally. Chances were that some bluebloods would be culled as well. Maybe even the highbloods and seadwellers. Anyone who would pollute the gene pool. Eugenics.

Karkat was a mutant, so he had always been at risk. There was another troll who was in even greater danger. Tavros. The drones wouldn’t see a sweet and pitiable troll, they would see a troll that couldn’t walk and could never contribute to the gene pool. Even with his robotic legs, though he was excited about them initially, he ended up preferring his wheelchair. After getting pretty much everything from the hips down bloodily detached from him via whirring wood-cutting device, he never fully recovered. Missing organs are apparently mildly problematic. Equius had been slightly cruel in his design of the robotic legs. While he made it possible for Tavros to relieve himself, he had not allowed for any organs responsible for producing genetic material. He claimed it was unintentional, but he reeked of deceit. Poor Tavros would be considered a drain on society, no matter how much Vriska tried to “help” him. All he was to the Condesce was a psychic shell, and not a very powerful one at that. He was pretty much mincemeat if the drones came knocking. 

Prior to the imperial decree, Terezi had been considered adequate, despite her blindness. She had passed all of the tests for becoming a legislacerator less than a sweep ago. She was just waiting for some sort of deployment when she reached the proper age. Trolls of ten sweeps, they wanted. Not nine, it had to be ten. That way the brain was “fully developed,” and the body was as well. It made sense, in a way. They didn’t want to send out anyone who would shame the trollian race with blatant immaturity or astounding weakness. ‘The extra sweep made a huge difference,’ one of her advisors had told her while in her studies and training for tests. ‘Once young trolls know they’ve passed the tests, we watch them for a sweep. It’s easy to pick out the good eggs from the bad ones. Some go too crazy with power and start to abuse it. Others start to respect their power. Others will begin to fear one troll over others. Discrepancies in the social hierarchy are established. They grow like a cyst until it oozes over, gaining notice from the Condesce. She never liked to deal with even the possibility of some sort of uprising. Those starving for and craving power were to be culled and replaced with the obedient and loyal. At least, the ones who knew who to fear and had any sort of regard for their lives. 

She pulled her cane away from the fire to allow the meat to cool. She had to be careful not to burn her tongue. Even though the smell of roasted meat was enough tempt her to forego such precautions, she refrained. Never give in to temptation. 

Temptation always seemed to lead down a wicked path. 

A minty green scalemate was roughly covered in leaves and left out to keep watch. Silly, and slightly stupid, yes, but sometimes it was the little things that kept one sane.

_"They had come together unavoidably, like two ships becalmed near each other, and lay rubbing sides at last."_

_\--Troll Joseph Conrad_

Days without sleeping in slime had already gotten to her. She had had a strange dream. She was sitting in a chair in a dark room. Another troll, not readily identifiable, lurked in the shadows of the tiny space. The troll held some sort of metal instrument. He asked if he could measure her head.

She asked why. He said that the Alternian jungles had the ability to change a troll. What was worse, he said, were the jungles that existed on other planets. She did not fully understand his response. When she attempted to ask for clarification, he disappeared into a swarm of flies. Needless to say, the dream smelled and tasted like asphalt and concrete. Gross. 

Darkness had already replaced any shades of cotton candy blue and buttery yellows of the daylight sky, which meant she had slept longer than intended. With no specific place to be at, no specific time, there was no use fretting over sleeping in. However, if she wanted to make some ground towards the ocean, it would be wise to get moving. There were only so many hours a troll could reasonably travel before having to stop again. Making a shelter and building a fire took at least two hours if done correctly. More often than not, she slacked on the shelter. She was fortunate that none of them caved in while sleeping. One good gust of wind would have knocked some of them over like a house of cards. 

Judging by the rich, dark, blueberry color of the sky, the sun had only set a few hours ago. At least the sky had not yet turned to black licorice. Then it would be a debate of whether or not moving on would be worth the effort so late in the evening. 

A rustle of leaves behind me, “Hey, Terezi, I thought I—”

Her heart leapt into her throat and she swung her cane at the source of the voice with as much force as she could. There was a loud thud. She breathed heavily, adrenalin pumping through her veins like a freight engine. It was another troll. A very tall troll. Muscular. Male. Probably a highblood, which meant that she had little chance in a fight and no chance of being able to outrun him. She readied her cane to strike again. Circling the mysterious troll, she tried to identify him. Since, apparently, he knew who she was. There was deep purple blood on his oddly white face. Face paint. Purple blood. Knew her name. “Gamzee?”

He remained on his back with a hand pressed to the side of his face where the cane had assaulted him. “Who’d you think it was, getting your motherfucking violence on and shit?” he groaned. He pulled his hand away to look at it, seemed to notice the blood, then replaced it over the injury. 

“Don’t you know better than to sneak up on a blind girl?” She offered a hand to help him up and he batted it away, standing up on his own. He was at least two heads taller than her. “You’ve grown,” she commented. It had been several sweeps since she had seen Gamzee in person. It was surprising to say the very least.

He ignored the first comment. “You look a bit shorter than I remember,” he tilted his head slightly.

She leaned on her cane, “I think I got stuck being short.”

“Oh,” he looked at his arm, as if it would give him some sort of appropriate response. Maybe he was trying to somehow figure out how tall he was in a weird way. Not much of what he did ever seemed to make much sense. “I guess I grew then.”

“Yes, Gamzee, we just went over that, durr hurr,” she laughed a bit, just to try to lighten the mood after assaulting him. At least it was just Gamzee. He wasn’t the type to get mad over an innocent mistake. He was still just as spacey as ever. Though he may have been a little hollowed out in the head, he was still another troll. And someone she knew. And a strong highblood. And, therefore, he was the safest being she could possibly travel with. Sweet Gamzee, such a gentle giant. Much unlike the other purple-blooded trolls out there who were, to put it delicately, batshit insane. “How’d you find me?” she asked and started to kick away the remains of the previous night’s fire pit. 

He picked up the scalemate that she had left out, “This little guy was all up and lookin’ at me all sad like and I came over to see what was up. I was thinkin that it had gotten lost but then I saw you getting your snooze on under your sticks there,” he held out the plushy for her to take. “I didn’t want to take a girl out of dream land where all the motherfuckin’ miracles be happening. That shit ain’t right. So I just up and snuggled with the tree there until you decided to up and greet the moonlight.”

Taking the scalemate by the horns, she put it back into her bag. “Where were you heading? You’re a ways from home,” the likelihood of Gamzee’s hive being attacked was slim to none. The similarity of their situations was akin to the similarity of a stingbug and a manatee right there. 

“Home is wherever you motherfuckin’ want it to be, TZ,” for some reason, Gamzee using Sollux’s nickname for her was irritating and she frowned, “A hive is just a hive, a home could be a thousand places at once—”

“I asked where you were going, not for your ideologies.”

“Aren’t they one in the fuckin same?” No, they are not. “I was going to visit my best brother up in the country side. Need to make sure little Tavros ain’t getting himself in any trouble with the enforced rules and guidances on that paper.”

“You got the notice too?”

“Sure did. Talked to that long horned fucker right away so he knows I’m on my way.” He smiled down at her a little lopsidedly. 

Even if he was a little annoying, he was still a familiar face, “Do you mind having some company?” The ocean wasn’t really her primary destination after all. The main goal had been to find a friend. And there was a giant clown with a sharp-tooth grin that practically screamed ‘friend’ looming right in front of her. It would have been idiotic to pass up the opportunity. Besides, hardly anyone messed with a highblood or any of his friends. 

“Aww, sister, are you offering to be my little travel buddy?”

She shrugged, “I’m not offering to hit you with my cane again,” and she smacked the end of the metal pole in a skinny hand, “though that may change if leave me all on my lonesome. A girl has got to eat after all and I’ve heard indigo-bloods are pretty tasty this time of year.” She showed her teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. 

He laughed loudly. “Well as long as you don’t got your cane up my motherfuckin’ nook and your mouth off my bulge, I don’t see the problem with a sister getting her follow on.”

Her face scrunched up with disgust. Like hell she would even consider going near his bulge, even if he had a bomb strapped to that region and she was his only hope of remaining intact. She would watch the indigo blood spray when the bomb exploded. She considered telling him that but refrained. No need to stoop to his level. “Which way are we going?”

He scratched his neck and yellow eyes turned upwards. He spun around twice. He started off northeastern, “Got a hunch it’s this way,” he called back and continued onward with long, loping strides. 

She hurriedly picked up her things and put them in her sylladex, not really caring which slot they occupied. Scooping her cane off the ground and jogging after the highblood, she shook her head. A blind girl, a clown, one compass, and no map. There was no better definition of a fun time.

_“We exchanged a few words lazily. Afterwards there was silence on board the yacht. For some reason or other we did not begin that game of dominoes. We felt meditative, and fit for nothing but placid staring.”_

_\--Troll Joseph Conrad_

Gamzee was surprisingly quiet. He never really spoke unless spoken to, or to make some sort of inquiry. He just kept going forward with the grace of a large spotted cat with that lazy smile that never seemed to leave his lips. He was completely comfortable with long bouts of silence.

The other member of the two troll group, however, was not. Especially since the only interaction Terezi had ever had with Gamzee consisted of a few group chats and one party. A going away party for Karkat to be precise. He left three sweeps ago to being his training as a threshecutioner. They had to start young apparently so that every troll would have had equal amounts of training by the time the actual test rolled around. Karkat passed the tests within the top ten of his class about four perigees ago but no one had seen him since his return. He was busy with certain duties and fulfilling obligations that he could not talk about for the world might suddenly implode or something along those lines. How those obligations held up after the recent imperial orders, no one knew. 

There was only the occasional crunch of sticks and leaves underfoot. Songbirds flittered to and fro with candy red and daisy yellow plumage, singing about they merriment of the spring months. “Birds be getting their love on,” Gamzee commented idly when he walked under a branch, his head tilted back to stare at the blueberry feathery couple above him. 

“Either that or they’re making negotiations regarding the dowry of the red one,” Terezi cracked a small grin, “Probably trading nests and worms for the rights to the lady-bird’s birdy bits.” She tapped at the ground with her cane when she walked. Occasionally (and intentionally) she would hit Gamzee’s ankles just to see if she could get a reaction or to make him stumble. There was something undeniably funny about a guy of his stature falling flat on his face. Unfortunately, he was too calm and catlike for reacting or tripping. Instead he just apologized. She did not know why he kept apologizing.

“Lady-birds’ birdy bits?” the clown did not look back at her, “Naw, sister, they be talking of love and the intentions of the universe. You don’t mess with what the universe demands by getting complicated. They just be going at with what’s natural to their feathery souls, free as the wind and the sky above. Ain’t no discussions about love. Love just is,” white fangs showed in the crescent shape his lips made. He made a gesture to two blue ones a branch ahead, “See them two?”

“Not really. Blind. I think I’ve told you that six or seven times now,” she inhaled shapely anyways as if the blurry blue specks would become clearer. They didn’t. They just looked like two blue circles made with the airbrush tool on MS Paint. 

He continued on talking, seeming to ignore her comment all together. “They just be doing what feels natural. They be hopping to the wind and fluttering to the sounds of the motherfuckin’ beats within their blood-pushers. No singsong-y consultations regarding a price, because love is free. Like the fuckin’ birds. They know that shit better than any of us,” he continued wistfully. He picked up a stick in front of him and tapped the ground in a way that was a little too familiar to Terezi. 

With her cane, she whacked the stick out of his hand. Mockery was not something she would tolerate. That had to be established forthright. “I legitimately do not believe that birds have the mental capacity to comprehend such notions,” she tapped at his heel again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, my wicked sister. I keep gettin’ in the way of your stride,” he moved two paces to the left and continued, “I don’t think the inner workin’s of the mind have anything to do with the miracles of motherfucking romantic sorts. Can’t think about love in that way. Takes away all of the magic,” he sounded as if it were the most reasonable answer in the world. He lifted a branch and gestured for Terezi to go in front of him. 

She ducked under his arm. She could talk about philosophies, at least it was better than total silence, “Love is just an idea. Just a word we attach to that occasional burst of hormones that tell us it’s time to be finding concupiscent partners. Makes the whole thing sound more appealing.”

“Mannn, I don’t even want to know,” he drawled with that lazy smile. Or maybe it was his make-up that always made him look like he was smiling. She could not really tell. “When you get with all the technicalities, the magic runs away. Runs away like a kicked baby woofbeast. That little pooch just wanted to have fun and kiss your face and be your best motherfuckin’ friend and you just up and told it ‘Naw, bother, I can’t be no fucker’s best friend on the account of you being a dog and dyin’ in three sweeps’ and swiping the magic out from underneath those tiny little paws like a dirty old rug. Just ain’t motherfucking fair to the dog. He just wants a friend,” he slowed down to match her stride again. He walked alongside her with his hands in his pockets and shoulders slumped. “Makes me want to weep motherfucking tears of melancholy to hear the vile words dripping from your lips.”

“Why?” she asked, not sure what to say to the dog metaphor. It did not really even merit a response the more she thought about it. However, it was always good to listen to a full story and to ask questions. She had learned that during training. One never knew when such information would come in handy. 

He clapped a hand on her shoulder, knocking her slightly with unintentional force. She regained her step and elbowed him. Gamzee shook his head somberly, “if you tell a dog that it’s gonna leave the world of the living long before you do, then what motherfuckin’ purpose does it have? It’ll just be one sad fuckin’ dog who only got to know what its master wanted of it, and never got to experience the miracle of lovin’ without inhibitions. Can’t think of the world that way, Terezi, you got to go where the motherfucking wind takes you. Otherwise you’ll be stuck in that mindset where you’ll all be thinking of hormones and shit and the love will up and run away, just like that little doggy,” there was a scuffle between two red birds overhead. A little brown one chirped and flitted away. Gamzee tilted his head to watch the bird disappear into the trees. His hand returned to his pocket.

“I feel as though this conversation it dipping dangerously close to quadrant territory and I’d rather leave that area unscouted and unmapped,” Terezi carefully stepped over a fallen branch. She breathed deeply, noting the twinge of smoke that still permeated the air. The wreckage could only be a few miles away, but the wildlife seemed to be content in the trees that presently loomed overhead. There was also pollen. Lots of pollen. And lots of sneezing but thankfully no actual stuffy noses. The last thing Terezi needed was for her secondary sight to be hindered on the account of fucking pollen. 

Gamzee ambled along behind her with long strides, “Sure thing, my sister. I don’t want to be accidently getting my step on into territories which be making your hormone stingbugs get on the defense about their hive. That ain’t polite. Gotta let the stingbugs do what the stingbugs do,” he picked up a branch again and started to use it as a walking stick.

Defined black lips pursed but Terezi was not about to let the clown man get a rise out of her. She couldn’t even tell if he was trying to take a jab at her with his “hormone stingbugs” or if he was just being himself. Verdict: based upon limited interaction, the topic of conversation, and the mental state of the accused, Gamzee Makara was found guilty of being himself. She let the comment drop. 

_"I had a cup of tea – the last decent cup of tea for many days – and in a room that most soothingly looked just as you would expect a lady's drawing-room to look, we had a long quiet chat by the fireside."_

_\--Troll Joseph Conrad_

The ash in the air had settled and softened their footsteps. Not that Gamzee’s seemed to make a sound when he walked. He was like a panther. A very tall panther. A panther that actually slightly resembled a tree. Poofy hair on top, long lanky limbs everywhere else. Maybe more like a willow that moved with the wind with a whimsical whistle. 

Fortunately, there were no birds for Gamzee to apply his irrational theories of love and matrimony to. He ambled along quietly. That stupid grin had left his face when the forest green had been replaced with shades of gray. The blackened trees sprouted from the ground like skeletal zombie hands. Terezi told him that. He said he did not like zombies. According to him, zombies were the bad sort of miracle. Great for the zombie, being alive and all, but not for everyone else getting their cranial sponge gnawed. 

Terezi breathed in deeply, mostly detecting ash but also a twinge of pomegranate. Red, and a little bit of tangerine orange mixed with the black licorice at the horizon. Dawn was fast approaching. “Gamzee, we need to stop and set up camp,” she slapped the back of his leg with her cane. 

He did not stumble, disappointingly. “Set up camp?” his feet did not shuffle when he turned, looming over Terezi like the one of the giant zombie trees. With clown make-up. A smile filled with little white shark-like teeth accompanied her private moment of amusement. 

“Yes, for sleeping,” she twisted her cane into the ash then rested her thin hands on the knob. Long fingers curled around the muzzle of the dragon that decorated the handle and she tapped her nails along the underside of its jaw. 

“Girl, nothing to set up for sleeping. I just got to pull out my little motherfucking blanket and find a nice tree to cuddle up with for the day,” he started backwards while he talked. 

“Gamzee,” she hissed. A fingernail tapped the rim of her glasses when she pointed to her face. “Do you _want_ your ocular orbs to be the same delicious cherry color as mine or do you want to keep them the way they are?”

Long-backward strides stopped. “Aww, girl, that wasn’t even an idea that I had thought of entertaining this morning. That idea gonna get a show now, musical numbers and dancing about camping and romancing, where you wanna set up the stage?” large hands disappeared into his pockets again. 

“I will take that poorly constructed metaphor as an agreement to set up camp,” at least he made an effort at being clever. Had to appreciate that. Or at least acknowledge it. It did not really matter. “Though in this theater there will be no romancing.”

“Girl, just trying to make a motherfucking rhyme.”

Not much of a production was made in setting up a shelter. With the sun already on the horizon it had to be simple and quick. They found a thick tree with a low fork just slightly above Gamzee’s head. With some help from the aforementioned highblood, a long but sturdy branch was secured in the crook of the forked tree. Terezi pulled a large black tarp and pikes from her sylladex and she and Gamzee quietly went about folding it over the branch and pinning down the edges with the pikes and a few rocks. It was a sloppy shelter, but it was adequate. The most important thing was to be blocked from the sun’s rays. Had the forest been intact, then it would not have been much of a problem with the tree cover. However, skeletal trees did little to protect young trolls from the brutality of the sun. 

Had the forest not been burnt to a crisp like any of Karkat’s cooking, it might had been tolerable for an hour or so into the early dawn. They may have been able to do what Gamzee originally planned: sleep in the shade of a tree. However, without any foliage, they might as well have been in a desert of black cacti and ashen sand. Both of which tasted better than Karkat’s lasagna, but that went without saying. 

Elbows and knees bumped uncomfortably when they shuffled under the tarp. Ash few up into Terezi’s nose, making her sneeze and bump Gamzee with the movement. He said something along the lines of “that’s alright, my sister” even though she didn’t apologize. With a few more bumps, apologies from Gamzee, and a few shoves, the two trolls settled in with their blankets. Initially, Terezi had planned to sleep head-to-foot besides Gamzee, but after he had taken off his shoes she changed her mind. Apparently the wriggler did not wear socks. Picking up the sneakers by their laces, she tossed the rancid atrocities just outside the tent next to her scalemate. The scalemate could deal with the smelly shoes. Mr. Limesnout deserved it after getting himself captured by a malicious clown troll on his last watch. It would serve as a lesson to do better in the future. 

Gamzee sat quietly on top of his blanket, filtering through his rainbow Skittle sylladex. He plucked out a miniature pie, small enough to fit into the pam of his hand. “You want any?” he kept his hand poised by another slot with a pie. 

She stuck her tongue out, “I wouldn’t touch that stuff with a ten-foot pole,” she cushioned her head with her arm and faced him. How that boy was still alive after so many sweeps of ingesting that poison, she did not know. Slime rotted the thinkpan: every troll he knew told him that. Including Terezi. Honestly, he did not really seem to care. 

He closed his sylladex. “That’s cool, my sister. Tav says the same motherfucking thing.” He took a bite and chewed quietly. 

The green slime on his lips seemed hardly appetizing. Terezi grimaced, “You know what that stuff does to you, right?”

A long gray tongue darted out and cleaned the slime from his mouth, “Miracles is what it does. Tavros says all of my happiness up and leaves without it. Don’t want to be fucking sad when our feet get to his welcome mat. That’d just be rude: going to his place and not being all grinning and smiling to see the best motherfucking troll that ever did hatch,” he smiled and had a bit of a stupid look on his face. Stupider than usual. 

“Aww, are you still flushed for him?” she teased. 

“Redder than a fucking rose.”

“As opposed to a celibate rose?”

“What?” he took a bite of his pie, his yellow eyes shining under furrowed brows. He had big eyebrows, she noticed, kind of like troll Andrew Garfield. Terezi found herself desiring a pair of tweezers. Those she had not packed, much to her dismay. They would have been useful in the deforestation of Gamzee’s forehead. 

Terezi closed her useless eyes. “Have you considered that we might _not_ find Tavros when we get there?”

“Naw, sista, he never even steps far outside his lawnring. He’ll be there,” Gamzee shoved the last quarter of the minature pie in his mouth and dusted his hands. 

“No. What if the drones got him?”

The highblood settled on his side and propped his head on his hand. Glassy eyes stared blankly. The ugly eyebrows became uglier. Forget the tweezers, she’d need a lawnmower.

Terezi almost pitied him at the second. His expression smelled pathetic and lost. She opened her eyes again, not because the motion did anything but because it was polite to maintain eye contact during conversations of a potentially sensitive topic. “You do realize that he is a prime target, right? He’s lowblooded and handicapped—”

“That’s all up and cookin’ in the thinkpan. Not a motherfuckin’ thing forgotten, little miss legislacerator. Motherfuck, I’m sorry,” he ruffled his hair, squeezing his eyes shut when he did so, “I all up and spaced out and forgot to ask you about that shit.” 

“Later, Gamzee. Have you thought about what you’ll do if we get there and he’s gone? Not out on an errand but we find his chocolaty corpse face down in a pile of rubble?” She could smell the frown on his face despite how is make-up always made him seem like a grinning fool. 

“Fuck,” he went quiet and messed his hair again. He shifted onto his back and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, “why you got to be preaching such blasphemous nightmares? Doesn’t a sister understand miracles?”

“Yeah, it will be a miracle if Tavros is still alive.”

Gorilla like fangs shone white when he smiled, “Hell yeah, now you got your motherfucking understanding on. Miracles are everywhere and they flock to Tav like a flock of bleating beasts to their most merciful shepherd. Tavros is probably all snuggled up in his recuperacoon, counting his little flock until his mind up abouts and tangos itself away to motherfucking dreamland.”

“Tavros can’t fit in his recuperacoon.”

Gamzee leaned over and put a finger to her lips, “Shhh, my sister, don’t ruin my fucking metaphor,” calloused fingertips pinched her nose, “honk,” he smiled and turned away from her. “Good morning, TZ.”

The blind troll frowned and did not bother to tell him that he had used a simile instead of a metaphor. She scratched her molested nose. The conversation was far from over yet he had already thrown in the towel. She turned her back to him and settled her head on her arm, “Good morning, Gamzee.”

_"Not the faintest sound of any kind could be heard. You looked on amazed, and began to suspect yourself of being deaf – then the night came suddenly, and struck you blind as well. About three in the morning some large fish leaped, and the loud splash made me jump as though a gun had been fired. When the sun rose there was a white fog, very warm and clammy, and more blinding than the night. It did not shift or drive; it was just there, standing all around you like something solid."_

_\--Troll Joseph Conrad_

Air did not circulate well inside the shelter; thick as fog and just as difficult to breath. The sun beat down on the black tarp, trapping a cloud of heat. Heat that swirled with every breath emitted from the lips of the diminutive teal-blood and the gangly highblood. He curled around her without touching her, like a parentheses, with his hands curled up against his chest. Breathing deeply and evenly, sweat shone on his forehead where paint had been wiped away. It dampened his shirt and made unsightly dark patches. 

Terezi was not as fortunate to remain asleep. She peeled her shirt from her skin and flapped it a few times to try to get some moderately cool air. It was ineffective. Careful not to wake her companion, she crawled a few paces so she could stick her hand out of the shelter. Hot rays bit her skin after a moment and she withdrew. Noontime, most likely, and too dangerous to go out. At least under the tarp they only had to deal with the heat and not the light. The light seemed to be the most dangerous aspect of the sun in any case. The warmth could be pleasant at times. As long as one did not look into the source, that is. Terezi blinked at the crust in her eyes before scratching it away with a long fingernail. 

There was no oily yellow to be smelt on Gamzee’s face, just a thick black line of long lashes. His ribcage rose and fell steadily but he was otherwise still. Terezi tugged at the hem of her shirt then settled on picking a thread. With the sopor he had just ingested there was a good chance that he would be knocked out for a while. Especially if he could sleep in such an uncomfortable environment. Even if he did wake up he probably would not care. Taking the hem of her shirt she pulled it over her head, immediately feeling relief where the thick cotton was no longer trapping her body heat against her skin. She folded the shirt and set it aside. Removing her binding was also tempting and something she would have done if she was on her own. Gamzee’s presence demanded that she had to draw a line though. Though she was a toe over it but it was hot, she was tired, and there were more naked trolls in television commercials. He could get over it. 

With her back flat on her blanket she stretched her arms over her head. Keeping her back turned to the highblood, she pillowed her head on her arm. 

Behind her, the scent of gold between obsidian lashes was gone. 

In another instant, she was alert and on her feet, clutching at Gamzee’s arm with strength she didn’t know she had. She didn’t know how long she had been asleep but it must have been a while because it was dark again. The branch that held the tarp was snapped and the wood splintered dangerously. How she had managed to duck out of the tarp and pull the sleeping giant to his feet and get him stumbling along behind her she did not know. It was a mystery to be solved later. There was a more important matter at hand. A big matter at hand. A big, hairy, snarly, matter at hand. 

There was a bear at hand. 

Said bear did not seem to be a bully who liked to knock down shelters just for the hell of it. That was something that Vriska did to wrigglers at the beach: kick down sandcastles to make little wrigglers cry for their lusus. Hence the reason Terezi had only gone to the beach once with Vriska. No, the bear was after flesh. Why else would it have exerted such effort?

Running, she should not smell anything too clearly but she could hear the lumbering footsteps. Footsteps that pounded the earth with the force of a stampede and just as loud. The beast snarled and the its heavy gait became louder and louder. 

She released her companion’s fingers. “Gamzee, draw you clubs,” her cane appeared in her hand with a pop of ozone and she snapped it to reveal dual swords. 

“We gonna fight this fucker?” his voice sounded weak, almost a little worried. As if he did not want to fight the half ton monster that chased them with the thundering steps of a whole herd of hoofbeasts.

Whether he was worried or not was no concern of hers. Their lives were at stake. Even if she did not have much of a life at that very moment, she knew she had a lot ahead of her. Hell if it was going to end because of a stupid brute. Or a bear. 

Ash hit the back of her leg and she slashed her sword behind her aimlessly. It caught for a moment and there was a snarl. There wasn’t much more time to keep running. “Go right,” she commanded while she broke left. The bear followed her, gaining fast. 

One misstep when she turned. Just the wrong angle and her foot slipped on the thin layer of ash. The beast’s claws raked her shoulder and she was on her side. Her lungs rejected the air she tried to inhale. The beast’s rancid fur assaulted her nose. Terezi rolled away from its enormous paw and blindsided it with her sword. It gave out a horrible roar, its saliva and blood spattering on her. She clutched her chest and heaved a breath. “MAKARA.”

Snarling fangs turned to her again and she shuffled back. Ash the gathered in the fresh wounds that stretched from her shoulder to her back. She slashed at its face again, aiming for its eyes or its mouth but hit its ugly snout. Fetid breath struck her senses and she thrust her sword forward, into that gaping maw. It reeled back shaking its head frantically. The sword did not budge. She had made a bear-icorn. She would have to tell Equius if she survived.

The bear reared up on its hind legs, swatting at Gamzee. Yellow eyes were wide but he maintained that stupid smile. Almost like the “holy shit, this might kill me” factor had not completely caught up with “oh look at the cute and cuddly ten foot monster that wants to eat me” factor. 

“Hey big guy,” Gamzee dodged the bear’s claws easily, almost as if was just an overexcited barkbeast rather than a half ton monster. He had to recognize he was in danger, she could smell his fear. For whatever reason, the fear in him barely reached his face. “Why don’t you up and at get your calm on? Terezi didn’t mean no motherfucking harm.”

The bear swatted again.

“Now I just want to help a brother out. Me and you, you and me, you and we, we’re motherfucking bros.”

It charged. He sidestepped, dodging the monster like a professional bull fighter. He did not turn his back on the beast, staring it in a circular dance while he continued to talk to it in a calm voice.

Terezi hurried to her feet, trying not to wince at the cuts on her shoulder opening with the movement. “Gamzee! Get your clubs out!” Terezi kept her sword poised, breathing deeply to smell the beast to the very best of her ability. It was not a pleasant stench. 

Twigs snapped when the bear pounded its heavy paws into the earth. Its attention was entirely on Gamzee.

“I don’t want to hurt this fucker.”

“It has a sword sticking out of its _head_!”

“It needs to get its chill on, slam a Faygo or something, so I can reach up in there and tweeze out that splinter that all got the gumption to be at making the hurt happen.”

The beast was slowing down. Whether it was from a loss of blood, a loss of energy, or a loss of motivation, it seemed to be losing its precision. It swatted clumsily at Gamzee, who ducked under its massive paw. It rounded on Terezi and she furrowed her brow. If Gamzee was going to be a weak stomached wriggler, then so be it. Part of her wanted to pity him, the other part wanted to hit him upside the cranial hull with the broad side of her sword and yell until indigo dripped from the cartilage on the sides of his head. 

She planted her feet and concentrated on the bear, moving towards her with more momentum. Gamzee was going to be fucking useless, fine. It swatted from a distance, missing her entirely. Very disoriented. Most definitely blood loss and maybe some brain damage. It reared up again and Terezi took the opportunity. For a small troll, she was strong, and she was well aware of that. She thrust her sword into its underbelly, slashing up with as much force as she could manage, sword only snagging when the sharp metal blade reached its sternum. 

Loathsome wailing assailed her auditory sponge. Then it stopped. Very suddenly. The beast teetered and Terezi sidestepped until she was out of range. It collapsed, falling like an ancient tree. Ash billowed underneath it. She was tempted to yell “timber!” She resisted.

With her sword aimed at the monster she circled around its quieted form deftly and out of its potential reach. A low rumble reverberated from the beast’s throat, gargling though the blood that pooled on its tongue and around the dragon handle. 

Livid red eyes glowered at that tall troll that stood opposite the beast, “What the _hell_ was that, Makara?”

His dark lips were pulled into a frown. Eyelids drooped and he shook his head sadly, “It just ain’t motherfucking right.” 

“It was trying to kill us!”

The troll shook his head. “It was at doing the bear thing,” he walked around to the beasts head, kneeling at its nose. It gurgled, drawing up its lips and showing its rows of sharp teeth that dripped red. It was still alive. Terezi was slightly disappointed that she had not dealt a finishing blow. Gamzee shushed it, “Be still, my friend,” he said with a disgusting softness. 

White knuckled fingers gripped the cane-sword tightly. One strong slice to its neck and it would be out of pain and out of misery. She considered using it on Gamzee for being a fucknut, but that was a tad too cruel. 

Gamzee was apparently ignorant to the thoughts running though the young legislacerator’s head. He stroked the bear. “I apologize for my best sister Terezi exposing you to the most merciless of cruelties of motherfucking life,” his other hand rested on its ugly snout and it did not fight him. “You were just being a bear, trying to survive in this world just like every other motherfucker out there. You and I are the same, just trying to survive. We got this drive to live: to live and to thrive. You were doing your bear thing, ain’t committing no crime.”

“Gamzee,” she hissed. “Stop pale flirting with the bear you useless sack of excrement.”

He held up his hand, bathed in blood, “Peace, my sister,” he continued stroking the bear. The beast quieted completely and went still. “Go be one with the clown, friend.”

Suppressed rage made her throat tight and her stomach twist. Maybe it was just the adrenalin surging though her veins or the teal that dripped from her back and made her head feel light. Perhaps it was the deathly silence of the gray world around her that gradually faded into a deeper darkness. The only thing she could smell was Gamzee and the cherry blood that leaked from the bear. Her nose scrunched up. Gamzee. Fucking. Makara. The troll who stood by and did absolutely nothing to hinder the assault of a ten foot tall beast with the full intent of killing both of them. Not only that, the troll did not even have the common courtesy to at least _pretend_ he was trying not to get himself killed. Not a tree creaked but the ash blurred and swirled low to the ground whenever the wind blew. Like television static, nothing was totally clear in the varying shades that surrounded her as far as she could smell. 

What was even less clear was the gross sensitivity the highblood had shown towards that dying beast. There had always been an aspect of sweetness to Gamzee that just about every other highblood seemed to lack. Personally, Terezi believed, he needed that cruelness. He needed it more than he wanted sopor and Faygo. The poison made him so stupid, so useless and lazy that he couldn’t even accomplish the most basic job of a troll: killing things! Rumor had it that under his mask of paint and smiles and the horrid stench of baked sopor existed a highblood of the cruelest caliber. A born subjuggulator, just as he had been destined to be. And she would be sure to see that side of him if their travels were to continue. 

Killing wildlife did not fall under the responsibilities of a subjuggulator. In her two personal encounters with Gamzee he had never so much as stepped on an insect, no matter how crunchy it looked. It was his job to remove trouble trolls from the society, but it was not in the description to include trouble animals. She could smell quiet rage emanating from him. 

Before she did something stupid, she decided to focus on what was important and that was their survival. It would have been a shame for the bear to go completely to waste. If they were to continue in the wild like they had been, then there was no need to abandon a perfectly good source of food. She exhaled out some of her anger, “I’ll take care of the bear if you clean up the shelter,” she offered.

He cranked the bear’s jaw open, removed the other sword, and tossed it aside unceremoniously. A gap of red between its eyes was the only indication that the sword had ever been there. Blood dripped from Gamzee’s elbows, “The bear don’t need no motherfucking caretaking no more,” his voice was still soft and just a bit sad. 

Terezi took her sword, “I’m going to clean up camp while you give your eulogy to the stupid bear, then.” Using Gamzee’s shirt to clean some of the blood from her blade, she turned and started back to camp. 

He apologized.

She didn’t care.

_"'The other day I took up a man who hanged himself on the road. He was a dirtblood, too.'_

_'Hanged himself! Why, in God's name?' I cried. He kept on looking out watchfully. 'Who knows? The sun too much for him, or the country perhaps.'"_

_-Troll Joseph Conrad_

Footsteps began to sound like a metronome. Just like the ticking of the clock in an empty room, the crunches of leaves and twigs beneath their feet were the only sounds that permeated that air. Gamzee talked occasionally at first, but gave up when Terezi never really offered a response. He asked if she was mad. She told him she wasn’t. A lie. He knew that. It was really pointless. 

The landscape had changed to a world of minty green and bubblegum pink. Leaves and blossoms flourished, like they should be for the time of sweep. Trees that towered overhead bloomed with life. More birds. Gamzee had tried to start up a conversation about them again but Terezi did not reply. He followed them with his eyes for a moment before looking at the ground in front of him a little forlornly, kicking a rock. 

The burnt forest and the carved up bear corpse were long behind them but the smell of ash was still as potent as ever. Sometimes it would fade a bit after passing a fragrant plant, usually a particular bush with highly poisonous purple berries, only for it to return as if the ground behind them had burst into flame. 

Gamzee stuffed his hands in his pockets. He did that whenever he was uncomfortable, she noted dully. “Listen, Terezi, I ain’t all at getting up with the icy atmosphere between friends. Girl, I made my apologies, apologies rained from my lips like confetti from the sky, them in your hair and on your shoulders just for you. Toss them around a bit, let them do their job of making the happiness.”

“No.”

Hands still in the pockets of those ridiculous clown pants, he turned around and walked backwards in front of her, “Girl, at least tell a brother what’s up. It won’t happen again, whatever it is, I motherfucking promise—”

“You know what you did.”

“Giiiiiirl,” he drawled. She was really starting to hate the nickname. “You got to help me get my remembering on.”

Terezi sighed. Staying mad at him was entirely futile. He didn’t learn anything from it, from other’s reactions. Completely inept when it came to socializing with others. Sure, he was nice. Sure, he knew how to get along with people. But actually _reading_ people, looking at the frown that had taken up semi-permanent residence on Terezi’s face and her monosyllabic responses and making a simple deduction was not a skill he possessed. Sure, he recognized she was angry. No, she could not let the anger ‘fizz out like the bubbles in Faygo’ or whatever stupid analogy he had used. No, she did not want a pie. And no, for the love of all things just, she did not want to wait for a fucking miracle. 

Truthfully, she didn’t even know what she wanted from him. Normally an apology would suffice, yet she stubbornly refused to accept the ones he tossed her way. “The bear, Gamzee. The stupid bear,” she answered without slowing down, forcing him to back-walk a little faster. She hoped that he tripped and fell on his boney ass. 

“Was that all, Terezi? The motherfucking bear? Is that all why your chattering teeth trap got a fucking lock and chain on it?” his expression softened and he slowed, seemingly not caring about how they were practically on each other’s toes. He reached for her shoulder as if it was supposed to be comforting. “Girl, I sad about that shit too—”

She batted his hand away, “No, that’s not it. Do I need to spell it out for you? Are you really that ignorant?” Harsher words were desired, but there was a level of professionalism and dignity that needed to be maintained. 

“Sing the whole motherfucking alphabet.”

Terezi pinched the bridge of her nose before dragging her hand down her face, “I can’t believe this,” she muttered. “We could have gotten killed back there. Your life _and_ my life were at risk. That bear was looking at us for breakfast and what did you do?” Even if it was technically a rhetorical question, she waited for a response. Curiosity demanded it.

The highblood shrugged, “Bear was just doing his thing and you looked like you all had it handled, I didn’t wanted to be all striding into a meeting that I had no business attending.”

She barked a harsh laugh. “Striding into a meeting, good one,” she tapped her cane in front of her with a little more harshness than necessary, “Not only did you have business attending that meeting, that meeting could have ended five minutes sooner if you showed up with some of your paperwork. Metaphor aside, you didn’t even draw your weapons.”

He frowned.

“You didn’t even try to go on the offensive when the bear turned on you. Look at you,” she gestured to all of him, “I can smell how big you are and you could have taken that thing on like it was a little hivefly but instead you just put up a white flag and tried to,” she paused to ruffle her hair, clenching her teeth to try to restrain some of her frustration, “pacify it!”

“I didn’t see no motherfucking need for violence.”

There were very few things that she couldn’t tolerate, but Gamzee seemed to be plucking each one of her nerves like the strings on an unturned harp. She took a deep breath, “Gamzee. It knocked down our shelter, chased us, attacked me, attacked you, and you didn’t see a _need_ for violence? You’re so fucking ridiculous; I just can’t deal with this,” she waved her hand dismissively. Stepping to the side of him, she quickened her pace.

However, he did not take the hint that the conversation was over. He stopped and held her pointy shoulders with his oversized hands. She winced at the unwanted weight on her injured shoulder. “Girl,” he said and bent his knees to be closer to her height. However, that seemed to be the extent of his response. Good job, Gamzee. Grade F in Communications, and no, F did not stand for “fantastic.” Sopor addled hippy.

“What?” she bit.

Then he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her comparatively tiny frame and resting his chin her good shoulder. He achieved top marks in awkward hugs. Terezi went rigid like a plank of wood. Clenching her teeth just so she didn’t bite him, she dug her nails into her pants to try to relieve some of the unadulterated rage that was bubbling in her chest. It was ineffective. There was a strong desire to kick him right between the legs and tell him off. Professional, Terezi. Had to be professional. No need to cause any extraneous problems. Calm.

Stupidly giant hands petted her back, “Girl, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again—”

“What won’t happen again? Us getting attacked or you standing around like a jelly-boned wimp if we do,” she felt like she stole the ‘jelly-boned wimp’ comment from a television show, but she couldn’t remember. Nor did she care. It was fitting. 

He held her out at arm’s length with his hands on her elbows, “You and I are a motherfucking team. It’s me and you. You and me. Until we get you home and all cozied up in your hive.”

“My hive was burnt down,” she reminded dully. “That whole ashy bit there, that’s where I used to live, numbskull.” 

He hugged her again. She let him, but not without a begrudging sigh. He smelled like smoke, sopor, and sweat. To any other troll, the scent of peppermint would not have been detectable. She could smell it faintly in that mane he called hair. Another mystery solved. Apparently Gamzee did bathe. Not only that, he washed his hair. Vriska owed her money for that one, not that she cared about a bet made four sweeps ago. 

Gamzee tugged at her sleeve, pulling it gently over the claw marks on her shoulder. “Girl, you didn’t get to be telling me how bad that was. We got to wrap that shit up.”

“You didn’t notice it before,” it was a statement, not a question. There was no reason to ask because she already knew the answer, even if she was a little incredulous. 

Pulling the sleeve down further, along with her bra strap, he glanced over the entirety wound with silent fascination. He looked over her shoulder at her back and then at her collarbone. Terezi let him just because she wanted him to really see it. Perhaps he would understand the amount of danger they were actually in. Her injury was just one poorly aimed swipe of the beast’s claw. Gray skin was bruised with teal welts and blood still leaked from the openings. Had the bear got a good hit on her, then her arm would have been torn clean off. 

Gamzee carefully replaced her sleeve, “I didn’t,” he replied finally. “All my attention was at someplace else. Girl, I’m motherfucking sorry.”

Terezi huffed and pushed him away, tired of being hugged. “And just where was your attention, Mr. Grape Jelly?” she used a nickname to try to lighten the mood. Not only was she tired of being hugged, she was tired of being angry at him. It was a waste of energy to stay mad at someone, she had learned. There was no point in bringing Gamzee down with her, especially since he probably did not learn anything from his actions. Plus, Gamzee was making her more uncomfortable than he usually did. 

The highblood glanced down at her, “Not on your motherfucking shoulder,” he shrugged and his big hands returned to his pockets. 

Remembering that she had not been wearing a shirt when the bear attacked, Terezi thought for a second that he was being suggestive. She quickly disregarded the thought. “How much farther is Tavros’s place?” she asked to change the topic. 

That lazy smile returned to his lips, “I think we’ll be there before motherfucking daybreak,” he turned and started to walk on.

She observed him for a moment. His easy, steady gait and the way he kept his head up despite his slight slouch. The part of her that desired order wanted to correct his posture. The other part admired the effortless, feline, steps. The way he moved without making a sound. On her toes she followed behind him for a bit, almost like a little bird, but then felt silly and no less quiet. She gave up and walked normally with small twigs and leaves cracking beneath her feet. Maybe it was his shoes that made him so quiet. Or maybe he was part trunkbeast: despite their large size, they were surprisingly quiet. 

With her cane, she hit his ankle just so his footsteps would make a sound for a moment. Big shoes scraped against the dirt and the leaves, “Girl, have you been doing that on motherfucking purpose?”

A look of mock innocence, “Gamzee, why in the world would I ever try to trip you. That would just be mean,” she pretended to be offended. 

He laughed loudly, “Glad to see the sad washed off your face,” he smiled. 

Terezi smiled back. Even if he was useless, he could be endearing. It was worth _something_. He got points for that. 

Gamzee walked beside her, mostly to avoid being hit with her cane it seemed. For the next few hours they did not make much conversation. Occasionally one of them would point something out, like a bird, an interesting tree, or a dead body that carnivorous rodents took particular interest in. Terezi wanted to investigate. Gamzee vomited when he saw maggots in the troll’s chewed up ocular cavity. They abandoned the investigation early to clean off Terezi’s shoes. Of course he could deal with bear being gutted and Tavros’s legs getting hacked off and the smell of his own feet but maggots? Time to upchuck sopor, pie crust, and what looked like corn.

Again, she was unhappy with him. (She did not care then she was unhappy? Is it sarcasm? If so maybe put an action with the not caring part like rolling her eyes or something cause it does not read that way) 

The trees became spaced out and smaller while they walked on, thinning as they reached the forest’s edge. They balanced on the land that sloped and curved underfoot, the saplings gripping to the land with their claw-like roots. Blade of blue-green grass grew between the each tiny shoot, replacing the dirt and leaves that blanketed the forest floor. Uneven terrain became blue hills. Long blades of grass swayed in the moonlight, reflecting dim light with every bend and curve. They swished and brushed against each other, dancing together in a slow and serene waltz. (I like the blades of blue green grass sentence but it goes on too much about grass and the other one with dancing fits better. I suggest removal.)

Harsh black rings interrupted the dancing grass, like a rock in the tide. They looked like someone had put out several cigarettes in a really nice blanket. Way to ruin a perfectly good blanket, jackass. 

Humidity and the scent of salt mixed with the smoke that seemed to come from every direction. Columns of black clouds peaked above the incline. They grasped at the stars from the earth, fading to gray until disappearing completely into the atmosphere. A few more steps up the hill. Red and orange mingled with the darkness in some spots. 

Terezi put her cane out to the side, bringing Gamzee to a halt. He did not ask why and just looked ahead intelligently. Even a drugged up mind like his could make a simple deduction. He chewed his lip and turned his head to the young legislacerator. One of the benefits of not seeing with one’s eyes was that her field of vision was broadened. She could sense the worry on his face without turning her head. His face was considerably easier to read with the paint smudging off, easier to smell the light and dark on his face without the obstructing mask of the paint. 

Terezi pushed her glasses up closer to her eyes, mostly to protect them from any ash that was in the air. Of course she could have closed them, but that got tiresome after a while. She motioned for Gamzee to follow her up the incline. 

Gamzee stayed put, staring up at the columns of smoke. His hands hung limply at his side and his lips moved silently. Terezi took his hand, forcing him to crouch with he while they went up the hill. 

“Drones?” he inquired quietly.

“Possibly,” she could only smell circles of black, nothing like the sharp edges of the imperial drones. Nothing mobile. Chances were that the drones had lumbered away to their next target just after setting the hive aflame, much like what they did with Terezi’s hive. Drones were not that intelligent, if they had an objective they completed it simply without looking for much error. So after a hive was lit on fire, the drone would go about its business to the next location. Provided, of course, the drone did not spot a young troll and its lusus escaping the flames. If a troll was spotted and the drone recognized the troll as a target, the little wriggler would be disemboweled on the spot.

Terezi knew this. She had not come across any living trolls other than Gamzee, so chances were that most had either died in the flames or were killed by drones. Like the poor troll that made Gamzee vomit all over her shoes. Clearly the victim of a drone. “Gamzee, look over, tell me what you see. I don’t sense anything.”

He crawled forward on his hands and knees, staying at the top of the incline for a moment. The troll turned his head a few times and squinted, “Not a motherfucking thing.” With one smooth movement he got to his feet and stared ahead, “Just some hives burning the fuck out but it don’t seem that the motherfucking arsonist got at the initiative to be seeing his own tragic masterpiece.” 

Standing beside him, the blind troll took a deep breath and listened. Still nothing. She pulled the compass from her pocket and licked the glass face, “Which way do we have to go?”

“He lives just above the water,” he answered simply. 

She licked her finger and tested the wind. “We should be out of the fire’s path then if they end up spreading. We should hurry.”

Dark blue could be seen on the horizon between the sloping lands. Nothing glimmered like the ocean, it was unmistakable. Gamzee started down the steep hill, a little noisily with his haste. Big shoes skidded against worn grass and small stones but he never seemed to lose his balance. Terezi followed at a bit of a distance, allowing him to test the somewhat treacherous terrain. Having to use her cane as a support rather than an extra set of eyes, keeping her senses trained on his candycorn horns was a good substitute. Nimble feet dug into the dirt and grass, being careful not to slip while she shadowed the highblood. 

At the bottom of the hill, Gamzee paused to wait a moment for her to catch up. The temperature was considerably cooler in that little valley. The air seemed a little cleaner, being below the fumes of burning hives. It smelled damp and the grass was knee high and slick. Moisture seeped through the fabric that bunched around her ankles. She tried to roll up the denim a bit, but gave up. Skinny jeans were stupid. She found herself envious of Gamzee’s sweatpants. 

They navigated the valleys between the hills. Even though both of them were in good shape (considering what Gamzee apparently ate, Terezi was honestly surprised by that fact), it was best to conserve energy. Going in straight line up and down hills would be more tiresome than weaving through the snakelike valley. 

Conversation ceased entirely, it seemed. Terezi kept her senses trained on Gamzee, trusting his sense of direction. He would glance over his shoulder occasionally but did not say a word. He smiled still, but Terezi could sense his distress. 

It was one of those times where Terezi felt that she should say something positive or reassuring, but nothing suitable came to mind. Drawing a complete blank. Emptier than Eridan’s quadrants. At least, last that she checked. That subject had always been a source of much jest with her, Vriska, and Feferi. One of them would have known what to say. She was never one to comfort people. Sure, she could yell at them to get back on their feet or encourage them to do their best. However, in the matter of life and death, she did not know what to do. When Aradia died sweeps ago, she was too young to fully understand how to react. Nothing she said to Sollux seemed to help, but he appreciated it. Sollux had always been a strong person and a good friend. Just the fact that some cared about him enough to make an attempt to cheer him up was satisfactory. Not to mention, the beetle-crunch cookies Terezi baked for him helped. 

Terezi did not have cookies to give to Gamzee. The worst possible scenario was also the most likely scenario: Tavros Nitram had already been removed from his hive. If the hives inland had already been burned, then chances were that the hives of the coast were the first to go. Provided that the resident was on the list of trolls deemed killable by the stricter laws. There were a lot judging by the number of hives they had seen up in flames. At least ten. They had seen several more hives and communal hives that seemed completely untouched. 

A seabird squawked overhead, followed by a chorus of others. “I hate those things,” she commented.

Gamzee glanced upwards and shrugged. She offered him some water, which he took, but that was the extent of their interaction. Gamzee had to know that there was something wrong. 

They walked on in silence. Before long, Gamzee began to run away from the silence. His feet hit the ground hard and the sound of shoes pounding against the earth faded with the distance he put between them. Terezi did not run. She hung her head. She knew.

There was no hive on that cliff. 

Those candy corn horns became for difficult to smell until they vanished entirely. Terezi was in no rush to catch up and trailed behind him at the same pace. But eventually, she did catch up. It was in evitable. 

The cliffside was not even on fire anymore. A perfectly cylindrical ring of soot and ash gathered where the hive once stood. There were remains of the ablution trap, burned and charred, and some piping. The rest of it was gone. 

One sad troll kneeled in the ashes. Big hands were limp at his sides and his shoulders slumped like a ragdoll. When she approached, being careful not to step on any of the unburned remains, she could tell he was shaking with his breaths. She could smell grape on his face and orange in his lap.

Not wanting to startle him she circled around and kneeled, her knees a respectable distance from his. She frowned and picked at a hangnail. Comforting people was never her thing. Instead of focusing in the purple tears that stained Gamzee’s make-up, she noted the light orange thing in his lap. Short, thick, with several points on one end and one smooth point on the other. 

“They motherfucking got him,” Gamzee brought a hand to rest on the broke piece of Tavros’s horn. He stroked it once before hugging it to his chest. He held it like it was precious to him, delicately but protectively. Quiet sobs trembled on his lips. Leaning forward, he trapped the bit of horn between his legs and his chest. His forehead met her legs.

In any other situation, she would have and batted him away. Instead, she combed his wavy hair with her fingers. Soothingly, she hoped. He nuzzled his nose between her knees. “Gamzee,” she sighed, and brought her hands around his face, cupping his strong jaw and turning his head slightly. He rolled onto his side, knees clutched to his chest to shield the horn. 

He heaved, opening his mouth to say something but only moved his lips without any words blubbering out. She brushed black curls away from his face and stroked his shoulder. She did not tilt her head down to “look” at him. Even if her eyes did not work to see him, the gesture would make their current position more intimate. It was already tiptoeing into pale territory, and she was not Karkat. However, she was still a friend. At least, she thought she was. Regardless, she felt it necessary to comfort him instead of yelling at him to grow up like some trolls would. The dead were not to be mourned in such a fashion, it made one seem weak. 

Not that she thought of Gamzee as weak. He was physically strong, and possibly a powerful psychic like most highbloods. However, to her knowledge, he never had to face any sort of tragedy or misfortune. Any sort of emotional trauma was dealt with sopor and chatting with Karkat. Especially sopor, which drove Karkat absolutely nuts after some time. 

She could remember Karkat pouting in her hive, cuddling with her in front of some dumb romantic comedy. He went on and on about Gamzee, about how irritating he could be. Karkat gestured wildly when he ranted, telling her about how “stupid” the highblood was being in one conversation or another. He blamed the sopor, _“The stuff fucking rots his think pan! He doesn’t know how to deal with anything! When his lusus doesn’t come back for nights on end, he goes to sopor. He thinks Tavros is red flirting Vriska, he goes to sopor. He stubs his goddamn toe and he goes to fucking sopor! Can’t he just have a goddamn cry and eat a tub of ice cream or something normal, but no! He has to go drug himself until he complete burns his feelings away chemically!”_ Terezi did not understand at the time, but she felt like she was beginning to. _“I swear, sometimes I want to take the damn stuff away from him but who knows what the hell that will do! Did Tavros tell you about that thing? That time Gamzee visited and ran out of pies and got really fucking weird? Like not his usual ‘peace and love’ bullshit but like, got really serious and flipped the fuck out at Tavros when he asked him to do something stupid like ‘Oh Gamzee, I am so pathetic in my wheelchair can you please get the pickles for me,’ and he was like ‘Shut the motherfuck up, dirtblood.’ Really! What the shit!”_

Gamzee shifted again and she continued playing with his hair. He did not stop her so it could be assumed that she was not overstepping any boundaries. “Gamzee, it’s going to be okay.” That was the best she had. Again, comforting someone in serious situation was not her thing, especially when she did not know him that well. “Maybe he got away, maybe he broke his horn leaving his hive.” They were inconveniently located and unnecessarily large. It was a possibility.

“He’s motherfucking dead.” Long fingers clawed at the denim covering her legs. “His legs are over at there,” he did not gesture when he spoke. She realized that she had mistaken them for ruined piping. 

“That’s not enough proof,” she offered optimistically. The chances he was alive were dismal at best, especially without his legs he would bleed out in no time without immediate medical attention. She did not tell Gamzee that. “What about the horn? Surely we’d find a skeleton if he died here.”

“I found it outside his lawn ring,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and white. He handed it to her wordlessly. 

Holding it carefully between her thumb and index finger, she sniffed it, “Seems like a finger.”

“As if my best brother needed another motherfucking handicap,” he commented somberly. 

Immaturely, she was tempted to laugh at the comment. Terezi set the bone aside and rubbed his shoulder, trying to remain serious for Gamzee’s sake, “It’s still not definitive proof. Without a body we can’t confirm—”

“Quiet, my sister,” he wiped his eyes with the heel of his palm, “you got no need to be convincing me of what is not the truth.”

“What about miracles?”

“They aren’t always with the purpose of making a guy happy,” he hugged the piece of horn again, “but they’re always for the motherfucking best. Terezi, I got the appreciation on for what you’re trying to do but you can stop at this shit. He didn’t fucking make it.”

Part of her wanted to hug him. Or give him cookies. Or do something other than combing his hair and petting his shoulder, “Gamzee, I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” he said. 

For what felt like hours they stayed there in the middle of the ashen ring. The sound of waves could be heard crashing against the cliffside and the annoying squawks of seabirds overhead. Salty wind chilled her arms. Her fingertips could feel the goosebumps on Gamzee’s. When the wind died down the humidity returned with growing warmth. Buttery yellow bled into the sky along with shades of peachy pinks and plum purples.

She continued to run her fingers through his hair and he tilted his head into her hand, closing his eyes. If hairlines could be attractive, then he had a nice hairline. She traced his widow’s peak, noticing the purple bruise on his head from where she had hit him, before allowing his bangs to fall onto his face again. 

After a while, he shifted onto his back. Yellow eyes glanced up at her through indigo tears, “Girl, are you flirting with me?” he mumbled.

She detangled her boney fingers from his hair, hands hovering above him innocently, “That’s not my intention, no. You just seemed so,” she paused, trying to think of the right word, “pathetic.”

“I know,” he muttered miserably.

“I just don’t know what to do for you. I usually offer cookies.”

Gamzee frowned, “I wish Karkat was here.”

“So do I,” she brushed his hair one more time, “he could probably offer more than a head massage and a lap to cry on. By the way, your tears are delicious,” she added just for the sake of humor. At the very least she could make an attempt to direct his mind away from the tragedy they seemed to have been cast in.

He grimanced, “Don’t be saying shit like that.”

A subject change was needed. “The sun’s coming up,” she commented with her hands at her sides. Gamzee being under the impression that she had some sort of pale crush on him was the last thing she needed. That was Karkat’s responsibility and she did not want it, especially after all the complaining that he did. 

Gamzee finally lifted his head from her lap, leaving a cool spot on her legs. He sat cross legged in front of her, holding the horn like a small animal in his arms. “Thank you, Terezi,” he said, gazing at her with bloodshot eyes. A weak, unfocused, gaze without any sort of intelligent thought behind it. Completely disoriented and emotionally exhausted. 

Her legs felt like jelly when she stood, pinpricks going up her calves and her sides from sitting still for so long. She offered a hand to Gamzee, which he took, though it was rather pointless because he stood up on his own anyways. “The stables still look like they’re intact,” she commented, pointing at building inaccurately. They weren’t far from the general wreckage, but wooden structures did not seem to victims of arson. 

Clutching the horn to his chest, he nodded numbly but did not release her hand. 

With a sigh, she tugged him along behind her to the stables. They trudged through the annoying wet grass. Denim clung to her legs and dew seeped through her canvas shoes. She did not really care, just like she did not care about the fact that Gamzee was still holding her hand. The past thirteen hours had been traumatic at the very least. She needed sleep. They both did.

The sun glittered at the horizon amidst the sherbet colored sky. 

_"The idleness of a passenger, my isolation amongst all these men with whom I had no point of contact, the oily and languid sea, the uniform somberness of the coast, seemed to keep me away from the truth of things, within the toil of a mournful and senseless delusion. The voice of the surf heard now and then was a positive pleasure, like the speech of a brother. It was something natural, that had its reason, that had a meaning."_

_\--Troll Joseph Conrad_

She did not bother with laying the tarp on the floor of the stables. Dirt was more than fine to sleep on. The floor was dry, strewn with hay and dried grasses. Whatever animals that used to reside in the stables were no longer present. Gamzee muttered something about that but she did not pay attention to what it was. She pulled some blankets from her sylladex, laying one on the ground in the furthest corner and folding the other on top of it for when it was time to sleep. Gamzee set up his blanket next to hers. 

Whatever had happened in the ashes was a onetime occurrence. Unless, by some undesired happenstance, Gamzee had other brutally murdered flush-crushes that he would cry over. At that point she _would_ just tell him to grow a pair and get used to it. Maybe not in those exact words, but the sentiment would be the same, regardless. Overly sympathetic trolls were not desired in the subjuggulator class, and there was no way that she was going to let him get himself culled over a few drops of purple from his glance nuggets.

White and purple smeared his dark gray face. He appeared skeletal with the white paint highlighting his cheekbones and circumventing his ocular pits. Terezi handed him a towel, which he used to dab his eyes and clean off the rest of his face. At least he looked a little better, though that probably did not do much to alter his emotional state.

Gamzee kept the towel. When he settled onto his side, he cuddled it along with Tavros’s severed horn. It could have been cute if the aforementioned items were a plush and a blanket. Instead, it was just unnerving. 

A degree of formality needed to be established. Gamzee was barely a friend and it seemed that he was getting to comfortable too quickly. Not to mention that she still did not wish to overstep any more boundaries. “You’re not obligated to sleep next to me,” she pointed out, gesturing to the entirety of the spacious stable.

He fondled Tavros’s horn awkwardly, “Aww, girl, you want me to move?”

“I’m just saying that you can if you want to. I probably smell like a zoo.”

“I think a zoo is about what we all be smelling like,” he rolled onto his back and opened his sylladex. He watched the colors for a minute before pulling a bottle of Faygo and a pie, “you want anything, girl?”

The sickly toxic lime scent of the pie made her cringe, “Ugh, Gamzee, get rid of that. That stuff makes you stupid.”

“Girl, I heard all that motherfucking preaching before.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, “Gamzee, the last thing either of us need is for you to be all sopor-ed up when there are drones marching around looking for troll heads.”

“All right then,” he said agreeably. He replaced the pie into his sylladex.

“All right? Just like that?”

He took a swig of the Faygo, “You’re just motherfucking looking out for me, and I got to be at appreciating that,” he held the horn again, “besides, Tav never really liked them either. Said they messed me up in a motherfucking bad way,” he added somberly.

Even if there was a very good chance that he would be trying to eat that pie again in the morning, she thanked him and told him that it made her feel better. She offered to cook up some of the bear meat, which he agreed to.

They built a small fire using some of the dried grass and a few logs they found stowed away in one of the pens. It took a while to cook the meat. They did not talk much but instead contented themselves with watching the fire. Fire that licked the flesh of a once living creature, making it safe for trolls to eat. 

“Fire got so many motherfucking hypocrisies up and dancing with its pretty little wisps,” Gamzee commented idly. “It got some straight up audacity to be changing its mind and shit like a motherfucking ocean tide but it can’t be acting like that friendly brother. The ocean got a fucking pattern, a motherfucking course it follows with the rules designed by the powers greater than we. Than every other troll. Fire just goes, up and goes without a single care for the law. Never know what it’s going to up and do, it could be cooking up dinner, keeping us all warm and cozy, or it could be cooking up a motherfucking hive without giving a single shit about the troll up in there. Troll meat, bear meat, it’s all the motherfucking same to the fire.”

Terezi brought her cane close and sniffed the meat stabbed onto the end. She returned it to the fire. “The ocean can be just as bad. We can predict the tide, but some troll could still get swept away and drown. The ocean is dark and hides mysteries. Even seadwellers don’t know everything that’s out there,” she noted blankness of Gamzee’s face, “I think everything can be like fire. Having a capacity to do what is good and acceptable, keeping others warm and cooking food like you said. But it can also serve another by burning down hives. However, when it’s used for destruction, its life is short because no one wants to keep tending to it,” she remembered the fire that raced through her own forest home, “just sometimes, when it’s free, it doesn’t know what to do and ends up out of control.”

Gamzee just nodded to that. After a few minutes she handed him some meat. They ate together in silence, listening to the crackle of the fire and distance waves. The meat was tough, but it tasted good. Though the fact that she had not eaten in over a day could have contributed to that. With all of the walking they had been doing, it would be wise to stock up on as much food as possible. For now, however, what they had hacked away from the bear corpse would suffice for another few days. Maybe there were some plants that could be harvested. 

When they were finished, they dampened the fire with dirty water from a trough. Gamzee curled up under his blanket along with the horn. Terezi pillowed her head on her arm, facing him. The stables allowed slivers of light to creep between cracks, but they weren’t bothersome. They were mostly in darkness. Much better than being exposed to too much light. And _way_ better than sleeping under that black tarp. The stables at least allowed air to circulate. 

Gamzee’s eyes were still open, staring ahead blankly it seemed. He nuzzled the smooth part of the horn a few times. Otherwise did not seem to know what to do with, like he wanted to keep it with him but with no purpose other than sentiment. 

“What was Tavros to you?” Terezi asked, partly to satisfy her own curiosity but mostly to get Gamzee talking about something personal.

He sighed, pulling his blanked over the horn. “My best motherfucking friend,” he answered shortly. 

“That’s not what you said yesterday.”

“What’d I say yesterday?”

“That you were flushed for him,” maybe he got forgetful under the influence of sopor. Another reason why it was not good for him. She should compile a list. 

He shrugged, “Flushed was the only feeling I ever got felt for Tavros.”

“Did he have flushed feeling for you?”

Another shrug, “He never said he didn’t.”

Oh. Oh that poor child. Tavros never even admitted feeling for him. At all. In all the sweeps she had known Gamzee, he had that little crush on Tavros. She did not, however, know that it had remained unrequited for almost four sweeps. “Gamzee, did you ever kiss him?”

“Of course, my sister.”

“How many times?”

He closed his eyes, “Twice.”

“You kiss him or did he kiss you?”

He did not answer.

“I guess I don’t even need to ask about you two going further,” she had no need to say the ‘b’ word. That might have been pushing it too far. Unless he had forced Tavros into something that he did not want to do (or was capable of doing), then the answer was as plain as daylight. It was an obsessive flush crush. Just like his obsessive pale love for Karkat. Gamzee was a troll of extreme and strong emotions. 

Gamzee shook his head, “I don’t want to be spilling anymore secrets,” he turned his back to her and curled up into a ball. “Good morning, Terezi.”

“Good morning, Gamzee,” she pulled the blanket over her shoulder, wincing at the weight of the fabric on the cut. 

Stupidly, she worried for her own sake.

"Watching a coast as it slips by the ship is like thinking about an enigma. There it is before you - smiling, frowning, inviting, grand, mean, insipid, or savage, and always mute with an air of whispering, 'Come and find out.'"

\--Troll Joseph Conrad

Early dusk, when the sun was low in the sky and the clouds were pink and purple with the night creeping in, Terezi left the stables. Whether Gamzee was asleep or if he was awake, he did not stir when she got up and folded her blankets. The air was still warm but the scent of smoke had faded. The ocean was calm and the water glittered with the sunset. 

Terezi went back to the burnt remains of the hive. Might as well start the investigation at what was left of the crime scene. Except for a few scraps of metal, not much remained of the hive. The building itself was probably not worth investigating, what was left of it. All it would tell her was that the cause of destruction was fire and gasoline. There were more fascinating aspects to the crime scene, such as Tavros’s legs. 

The legs were singed, dotted with black and sunken in parts. The surrounding areas showed no signs of a body, which suggested that the legs were separated before Tavros had been killed. Poor guy. Had to remain professional, however, and try not to think about how much pain the victim had suffered and rather focus on what caused the pain and how. There was dried blood around where the legs attached to his hips. That would be the best place to start the investigation. 

From training, she had learned to keep her supplies on hand and took the tool kit from her sylladex. She held her official legislacerator badge fondly and set it aside to retrieve some tools. After putting on some gloves she turned the legs towards her to get a better look at the inside of the robotic contraption. Lots of blood, lots and lots of dried up blood. Oddly enough, no flesh. Interesting. There were no bones or organs or any of the parts about his anatomy that would have been cut off with the legs. After all, the legs weren’t just ‘legs’, Tavros had mechanical replacements for some organs and some of his pelvic bone had been replaced. The bolts and metal fixings that would have attached to his body were not severed or damaged. The legs appeared the same as they did before Equius had attached them, except with some blood and burns. So what conclusion could she draw other than that they weren’t sliced off by a drone, but, removed?

The case had suddenly become immensely more interesting. 

There were fingerprints on the metal but no way of identify them. The preserved them with a few photographs and a slide. Perhaps she would have a chance to identify them later if she ever got back to civilization. 

Loose screws and blots also indicated that the legs had been removed, intentionally it seemed. The blood suggested that they were removed just before or during the crime. Tavros could not have removed them by himself, so it was highly probably that there was another troll at the crime scene. An accomplice?

Well, no, she had to step back. Here she was assuming that Tavros’s legs had been removed _before_ his death, but instead, they could have been removed by a hungry passerby. Not another troll as cannibalism was frowned upon (though not impossible) but his corpse could have been eaten by seabirds. However, there would have been less blood if he had been dead. The most likely scenario was that he was alive when the legs were removed, they were removed by another troll, and they were removed intentionally. Every possibly scenario could be mulled over later but she gathered all of the information she could from the legs. Without an actual team and a laboratory, there was not much more she could do. 

Finding out if there was an accomplice, however, was more important. Evidence pointed to the possibility of another troll’s involvement in the crime but without the fingerprint analysis she could not be sure. All she could do was search for more clues that pointed to the mystery troll, of course, if such a mysterious troll even existed. 

She started back to where she and Gamzee had sat the previous night, noting that there were still indentations in the ash. Terezi made a mental note regarding the size of Gamzee’s feet so they would not be confused with the perpetrator. Maybe Gamzee was the perpetrator and he was just putting on an act. As interesting as that would be, the idea was farfetched. Ridiculously so. Definitely belonged in an episode of CSI. 

Nothing of interest was at the center of the hive, just ash and unidentifiable debris. She circled outward methodically, swiping her cane to and fro and taking in every color and scent and taste she could. Mostly ash and debris. Whoever the mysterious troll was, he or she was a sly one. A good investigator would never let the culprit get the better of them. Sneaky with well covered tracks, not _perfectly_ covered tracks. 

There was nothing within the hive that pointed to a troll other than Tavros. Gamzee had said that he found Tavros’s horn just outside the ashen ring, so perhaps there was more out there. She continued to circle out with her senses trained on the ground for something. A footprint, a lock of hair, just something that pointed to a troll. 

Eventually, she found a footprint. Just one at the edge of the cliff. It was obviously a few days old but definitely a foot print. Dainty feet, smaller than Terezi’s, with a female style of footwear. By the way it was shaped, it was a heeled boot of some sort. It faced outward, towards the ocean, with the heel embedded deeper into the earth than toe. Some sort of struggle. Not necessarily a fight but it seemed as if the troll had to struggle to keep her bearings. Terezi decided that it was reasonable to assume the troll was a “she” until proven otherwise. 

Leaning over the edge of the cliff, she tried to sense if there was a beach below that could potentially offer more evidence. There wasn’t. Just the waves. Smelling the colors shift from white to gray-blue when the tide went in and out was almost hypnotizing. Perhaps she would have enjoyed living by the ocean. 

Perhaps she would have enjoyed being born a seadweller, being able to explore under the waves freely. That would be the only perk, however, she was not keen on the violent tendencies and the higher expectations. Being around the middle of the spectrum had some upsides to it, after all, more possibilities it seemed. The structure of society was so very limiting in so many ways. Take Gamzee for example. More likely than not he was cull bait, especially with the new laws, simple because he did not meet the expectations of his caste. Had he been a yellowblood or somewhere on that end of the spectrum, his ways would be more socially acceptable. She pitied him, in the nonromantic sense. Gamzee had so much potential but did not utilize it. It really was a shame.

“Girl.”

Terezi jumped and he grabbed the back of her shirt. He pushed her closer to the edge of the cliff, quickly. Dropping her cane, she reached behind her to try to grab a hold of something and caught nothing. “Gamzee. Let go of me,” she tried to jerk out of his grip but he shoved her forward again, toes over the ledge.

Now, she was scared. 

“Girl, I ain’t going to motherfucking hurt you,” his breath was on her ear, “I ain’t got the fucking motivation to hurt a goddamn flea.” He pulled he back and turned her with his big hands. Wrapping an arm around her back, he brought her close but with no affectionate intent. No, it was a possessive and rough. “But baby doll, if you motherfucking do that to me again. Walking off and leaving me on my lonesome, waking up to an empty space where a tiny little blind dreamer was once up and occupying ain’t the best feeling that ever been rattling around in my chest.”

“Let go,” she tried to shove her arms between them, regretting abandoning her cane. Maybe then she could have at least whacked him. No, he could overpower her physically with ease. To her surprise, he let go. 

He took a step back with his hands in the air, palms open as the universal symbol for peace, “Girl, you got my scare on. Made me thinking that you were gonna up and abandon a brother. I got to thinking last night, I got to thinking a lot of motherfucking wicked shit.”

“Gamzee, do you need a pie? You can have one. They’re in your sylladex, I smelled them.”

“Got rid of that fucking shit last night, thinking about what you said. What every motherfucker has said,” he dropped his hands to his sides. “Now it’s me and you, and I motherfucking be recognizing that fact that it just be being you and me.”

“If you’re insinuating that you no longer want to travel together, that’s fine. You can go home,” she did not really know what he was accomplishing with his speech, or what message he wanted to get across. 

He shook his head, “Naw, sister. If I didn’t want to be letting you tag along like a little lost baby quackbeast, I would have just up and left. Up and left without a goddamn word,” he took a breath and assumed a more familiar posture, seeming to relax a bit. “I ain’t got no intentions of going back until we get a radar on Karkat. Fuck if both of my best brothers get subjected to such merciless cruelty.” 

“Just give me a moment to think,” she asked. He gave it to her. He followed her to the edge of the cliff, where he sat beside her as a distance too close for comfort. Not saying a word, he looked ahead with a frown. The waves crashed against the rocks below and the spray would sometimes reach their faces. 

Pulling her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs. “What’s left?” she asked mostly to herself. It was an honest question, not the sort of a self-pitying wriggler who wasn’t getting everything he or she wanted. It was very real. Her world was in ashes, more literally than she would like. It felt as though there was something essential missing, more essential than her hive and her friends. There was no point in dwelling on it. 

The highblood did not turn away from the sea. A deep frown was more evident without all of his make-up. “What the fuck IS LEFT?” he sneered, “Not a motherfucking thing, doll face. Me and you, Karkat up and about somewhere if the miracles are for us and not for them. Fucking miracles everywhere and they seem to be everywhere but at with we.”

“Maybe we could find the others as well if they aren’t dead,” she added. “Sollux is probably safe, Kanaya, Nepeta and Equius…”

Gamzee put a hand on her shoulder. It was probably meant to be comforting. Instead it was just awkward and a little creepy. “Girl, we going to go?”

Terezi nodded, “What other option do we have?”

“Fucking none that don’t mean death, you for being you and me for being with you,” Gamzee got to his feet and offered a hand to help her, which she took. 

Wind messed both of their hair. They stood across from each other at that cliff, him with his hands in his pockets looking like himself and her fiddling with her cane. Not saying a word but they both understood the situation. They were completely alone. The troll standing across from them was the best bet for survival. Suddenly, Terezi felt very small between the vastness of the ocean and the hills, standing in front of Gamzee. It was humbling at the very least. 

“Where do you think Karkat is?” she figured he might have an idea, being his moirail for so long. If he still was. They had not discussed quadrants outside of Tavros, mostly because she did not want to smell his face when he realized that her quadrants were utterly bare.

“Anywhere. Someplace his blood would be the least of anyone’s concern.”

Terezi pursed her lips, “Either he’s roughing it out in the wild or he’s in the capital, those would be the safest places for him. Drones won’t be hunting in the jungles because they wouldn’t have hives to target and it’d be suicide for a troll to go in alone. In the capital, Karkat has the potential to hide in plain sight.”

Of course, Gamzee dictated that both shall be done. Through the trees and beasts to a concrete jungle of a very different sort of monster.

*

*

* 

*

*

Those who have crossed  
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom  
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost  
Violent souls, but only  
As the hollow men  
The stuffed men.


End file.
